Cut the Lights (9 page)

“Sonata would want us to withdraw.” Mica's lip trembles.

Clayton snorts. “How would you know? No one gets what's going on with Sonata or we would have seen this coming.”

Mica looks offended, but I have to agree with Clayton.

“I say we do the show with Briar as Sylvia,” George says.

“That's two of us!” Ratna's face brightens, but her eyebrows are still bunched. “Wouldn't Sonata want the show to go on? She put a ton of work into it.”

“Without her?” Mica shakes his head.

They argue the options, over and over. I stare down at my hands, gripping the sides of the chair. Finally I say, “Shows do get cancelled sometimes. Maybe it's best.”

“Exactly,” Mica says.

“Just sleep on it, Briar,” Ratna begs. “You could play Sylvia, if you—”

“Ratna, it's late. Let's go home.” I stand and pick up my backpack. “George, can you cut the lights?”

Ratna sighs. George looks like he's going to speak, and then he walks to the lighting board at the back of the room.

I take off my glasses and stuff them into my pocket. It's over. My first directing job.

The stage lights fade to black.

Outside Briar's bungalow. Early evening. The front door is halfway open. Loud voices can be heard coming from inside the house.

I want to retreat to my bed. Curl up and pull the blankets over my head. But Darla and Mom are blocking the front hall, shouting.

“How could you lose another job?” Mom's face is red, and her freshly dyed hair is a mess. “When are you going to grow up?”

“It's not my fault!” Darla's beaded hair swings back and forth as she waves her arms. “The management at Finders Keepers is prehistoric.”

Neither has noticed me. I hesitate on the front step. Do they have to fight today?

“What did you do, Darla?” Spit flies from Mom's lips. “Come in late too many times? Leave for lunch and skip the rest of the afternoon?”

“I come to my only sister when I need help, and this is what you say? I'm only asking to move back in for a couple of weeks.”

“It's never just a couple of weeks!”

I step inside. “Mom! Darla!” I had planned to yell—make them shut up for once—but my voice comes out in a whimper.

They both turn to me.

My legs begin to shake. I grab onto the coat stand to steady myself.

“What's wrong?” Darla takes my backpack.

“Sonata...” I can barely whisper. “One of my actors…is in the hospital. She had a breakdown.”

“Oh, baby.” Mom pulls me against her, and I feel my tears well up. “How can we help?”

Darla rubs my back. My throat clogs. I have no words.

Fourteen

The hospital gift shop. Tuesday morning. A florist's fridge filled with bouquets of sweet-scented flowers. A rack of cheerful greeting cards. Shelves of cheap candies and plush toys
.

The shop is deserted, except for a twenty-something woman behind the counter, flipping through a magazine and looking bored.

Mom and Dad dropped me off fifteen minutes ago, and I've circled the small shop twice, searching for some token to bring Sonata. As I stare at the shelves of stuffed rabbits, bears and monkeys, I can't fathom which one Sonata might like. As a director, you're supposed to understand every character in your play. It's harder still to understand your actors.

What pushed Sonata over the edge? Did she suffer some sort of trauma? Was she really in the psych ward last summer? What exactly is a breakdown, anyway? I have a million questions, and no right to ask them. But I'm going to see her anyhow.

I'm more than a little nervous about visiting the fourth floor—the psych ward—even though I phoned Sonata's mother last night to ask if it was okay to visit, and she told me what to expect. Calling Sonata's place was Mom's idea. Dad gave me money to buy Sonata a gift. Darla taught me a Reiki healing treatment to use on her, as if I'd really attempt it. At least Darla and my parents have stopped fighting for now, but with Darla moving back in, it won't last long.

I pick up a plush hedgehog that catches my eye. A white underbelly, soft fur on its back and adorable oversized eyes.
Comfort Creature
, the tag reads.
An emotional support animal with
healing warmth and aromatherapy.
Apparently you can heat the hedgehog in the microwave and insert a pouch of lavender in its back.

I check out a few other animals, but when I find myself cuddling the hedgehog, I figure it'll do. Maybe I need an emotional support animal too.

I buy it and head to an elevator before I can change my mind about visiting. Today, I feel bruised. I've hardly slept. Every muscle aches. I'd rather be anywhere else.

I step into the elevator, hugging the hedgehog on the ride up.

I'm surprised that the fourth floor looks so ordinary—a nurses' station, wide hallways, open doors into patients' rooms. The lighting is fluorescent—glaring and too white. I consider how I'd light it for the stage, and then remember my glasses are at home. It's not like I need them anymore.

“May I help you?” A nurse with red hair and a purple uniform greets me.

“I'm...uh...” I fight an urge to flee—maybe this is a mistake. “I'm here to see Sonata Lopez.”

“Sonata?” She tilts her head. “Oh, you mean Sarah. You must be Briar. Sarah's mother told us you'd be coming.”

“Uh, yeah.” I drop my backpack beside the desk. “I know I can't take this in, but is the hedgehog okay?”

She smiles. “Yes, although the hospital has a scent-free policy, so Sarah won't be able to use the aromatherapy until she goes home.”

My face gets hot—I should have thought of that. Why do they even sell them in the gift shop?

“Please keep your visit to fifteen minutes.” She has me sign the visitors' log. “Sarah's in room four twelve. I'll show you the way.” She takes off down the hall, rubber shoes squeaking.

I resist peering into the open rooms as we pass, partly because I'm afraid of what I might see. When I do catch a glimpse of a patient in a doorway, it's a middle-aged man with bed head and a cheerless expression. I can't help wondering why he's here.

My pulse quickens as I near room four twelve. I don't know what to expect, even though her mother said that Sonata would want to see me, that she was upset about abandoning our play.

“Sarah, your visitor's here.” The nurse raps on the open door before turning on her heel and heading back the way we came.

I hesitate—last chance to run for it—before entering the room, expecting to hear Sonata scolding the nurse for calling her Sarah.

But Sonata is hardly herself. Her face is gray, her hair is stringy, and she's wearing a ratty T-shirt and sweatpants. She sits in a chair near the window, with a box of tissues on her lap.

“Where are your glasses?” she asks.

“I'm...uh...not here as director.” I squeeze the hedgehog.

“Oh.” She stares blankly at me, as if it takes effort to concentrate or even care.

It's profoundly disturbing—the Sonata I know has vanished.

“I brought you this.” I hold out the hedgehog, which seems ridiculous now.

“Thanks.” Sonata takes it, gazes at it for a moment and then drops it in her lap.

On a nearby table there are several plants and a bouquet of yellow carnations with a florist card signed by Lorna. Sonata's bed is unmade, and the second bed isn't occupied. A stack of books sits on Sonata's side table. There's no
TV
in the room.

I clear my throat, aware of the murmur of people talking in the room across the hall. Sonata's room smells like antiseptic and questionable food from her leftover breakfast tray.

“How's the food?” I say, not sure how to start.

Sonata just shrugs. “I've eaten better.”

I try to remember what I wanted to say, but it's abandoned me.

Sonata's hair falls across her face as her fingers creep up to probe her temples.

I try again. “I'm sorry this happened to you.”

“I'm sorry I ruined the play.” Tears well in Sonata's eyes and trickle down her cheeks.

I suck in a breath, horrified. I made her cry. Now what do I do?

“It's not your fault.” I stumble over my words. “I should have noticed what was happening. I should have helped—”

“This has nothing to do with you, Briar.” Her voice wavers.

“It doesn't?”

“No. I...” She takes in a deep breath as the tears well up again. “It's been building for a while. The pressure to do well in my courses, the commercials I've been shooting, the performances at school, the university auditions and applications. When I got a letter on Friday saying that I didn't get into the National Theatre School, I just...wanted to stop trying.”

“Sonata, you didn't...” I shiver, unable to finish my thought. I have no right to ask.

She stares down at her hands. “No, but I had a bottle of pills.” Her voice is hollow.

My own hands tremble. “Oh, Sonata! I'm so sorry.” I'm not sure what else to say. Anything I can think of seems horribly inadequate.

The nurse pops her head in the room, nods and smiles at Sonata, then pops out again just as quickly.

Sonata grimaces. “They check me every fifteen minutes, even when I'm trying to sleep.”

“I guess that's good. They're watching out for you.”

“Yeah.” Sonata rips a tissue out of the box and wipes her face. “How's everyone else? Are they mad?”

“No, they're upset. They miss you. We all do. The play is—”

“Canceled? Because of me?”

I nod. “Unless you think you'll be better...” I let the thought dangle, unfinished. It's a stupid idea.

She sighs and crumples the tissue in her fist, looking like she might cry again. “I'm so sorry, Briar. I hate that the play is canceled because of me. But please understand, I can't think about school or anything else right now. It's overwhelming. Even getting out of bed is a big step. I don't know how I'm ever going to get back to Whitlock. I wish the play could go on, but not with me in it.”

“That's fine,” I choke out.

We talk for a few more minutes before she has to leave for her first group therapy session. As I watch her shuffle down the hall, a shell of herself, I feel completely powerless. If only I could remind her of what's fun about life, the theater, everything.

An uncomfortable thought nags at me. I could show her that life goes on, that the show goes on even if it seems impossible. Even if I have to perform onstage.

If anyone can save this play, it's me. After all, I've been breathing Sonata's lines for weeks, and the blocking is imprinted on my brain.

I text my cast, Ratna and George. Meet me on the set at noon. We have planning to do.

Then I phone Lorna.

Fifteen

On the set. Same day at lunchtime.

“We need to perform
Wish Upon a Star
for Sonata.” I pace the stage, letting the spotlights shine down on me, squinting at Ratna, Mica, Clayton and George in the front row of seats. “I've been to see her, and she's upset about the play getting canceled. This is how we can help her—by performing the play for her, continuing on no matter how tough things get.”

“Sonata wants this?” Mica peers up at me.

“Yup—she said she wishes the play could go on, and I want us all to do that for her. Joseph has agreed to record our first performance so we can show Sonata what we did. I want it to be a message from all of us—a way to encourage her to get better.” I don't mention that she was suicidal. Lorna knew, when I phoned her, but I doubt anyone else knows.

Mica nods thoughtfully.

“And you're going to play Sylvia?” Ratna's hand flies to her chest.

“I'm going to try.” I bite my lip, hoping I can overcome my jitters to do a decent job. It's one thing to perform skits in drama class. It's another to act in front of a packed house.

“If you're acting, who's going to direct?” Clayton gestures with his cast.

“Briar can do both.” George jumps onto the stage beside me. “Plenty of Hollywood directors star in their own films—”

“Sorry, George, but I can't see how the play is working when I'm onstage.” I reach up to adjust my glasses, then realize they're still at home. “I'm going to need help with the directing. Sort of a co-director, although we'll still be using my vision for the play,” I say a little forcefully.

“But who—” George begins just as Lorna walks in.

“Sorry I'm late.” Lorna dumps her bag on a chair. “I had to get out of my afternoon classes.”

George grins. Mica and Clayton exchange startled looks.

Ratna claps her hands. “Briar, you're brilliant.”